


break again without tomorrow.

by 1231pm, spaz_ian



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Depression, Harley Keener-centric, M/M, Minor Character Death, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, lapslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 05:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17401199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1231pm/pseuds/1231pm, https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaz_ian/pseuds/spaz_ian
Summary: tears stream down, and he collapses to his knees, sobbing into his hands again, he’s lost track of how many times he’s cried these past few days as he looks around the living room.and then suddenly, there’s a wave of anger, why did this have to happen to them? he stands up shakily, stares at the living room full of memories around him, and the anger keeps boiling and boiling before finally he grabs the bookshelf holding science competition awards and ice skating awards and wooden picture frames, bringing it all tumbling down. he watches with sick satisfaction as glass breaks and wood shatters.he suddenly can’t stop.by the time he comes to, he’s sitting on the couch with bleeding knuckles, everything in disarray around him.(get out, get out, get out —)he needs to get out of here.—or, the one where grief hits harley's home like a tornado, and he has to claw his way out of his bunker to recovery.





	break again without tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warnings: minor character death, suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, self-harm, cutting, disorderly eating, depression, anxiety, & general cursing.
> 
> —
> 
> this was written in collaboration with imp!!! she wrote the prompt and part of the interlude. the title & headings are from jubyphonic's lost time memory cover. i hope you guys enjoy this! please be careful though, this has a lot of triggering themes. stay safe while reading, i love you. 
> 
> this fic is in dedication to the harley keener discord who by far are some of my favourite humans.

**part i. a time machine turning back to the day.**

 

* * *

 

it was just supposed to be quick, they said.

 

callie rolled her eyes at him, and told him they were gonna be careful. _just gonna walk there. it’s right across the grocery store,_ she laughed.

 

 _it’s morning on a saturday!_ harley exhaled tiredly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. _can’t you just get it later?_

 

clicking her tongue in annoyance, she nudged him, _we’re just gonna be right back! i need paper for my english project, and you know mr. palmer makes the project fourty percent of our grade!_

 

harley sighed, poking her in the stomach before he sits up, _fine, fine, okay, i’ll go with you_.

 

callie shoved him back, making him fall onto his pillows with a thud, _mom’s going with me! she wants you to lock up the house, loser._

 

 _ugh, fine, brat_ , he retorted, before getting out of bed, not even bothering to fix his blankets.

 

he followed her out and went down the stairs to offer a sleepy smile at his mom who was already dressed for the day. he gave her a hug, and she kissed his forehead.

 

_make you sure lock the door, okay, sweetheart?_

 

 _i’ll be fine, mom_ , he laughed, swatting her hand away when she began ruffling his messy curls.

 

 _we’ll be back in an hour or two, so can you sleep down here? i know your bed is more comfortable, but just so you can hear the door_ _—_

 

 _it’s not a problem_ , he dismissed, nodding, _i’ll sleep here, it’s fine._

 

 _okay, if you’re sure_ , she smiled as both her and callie walked towards the door.

 

 _mom, c’mon_ , callie laughed, waving at harley before she left.

 

 _love you guys_ , he shouted drowsily to them when they both walk out and away from the front yard, hearing them shout it back.

 

and with that, he headed over to the couch, laid his head down on a throw pillow and knocked out again within seconds.

 

* * *

 

when he wakes up, he hears the loud sound of someone knocking.

 

that is truly the first tell that something was wrong. that doesn’t make sense. his mom and his sister have their key. who is knocking at… he checks the clock, 11:32am on a saturday? he walks over to the door, leaning against the wood frame from having gotten up too fast.

 

 _hello…?_  he blinks back the sleep in his eyes, and looks at… a police officer?

 

 _may i help you, officer?_  he yawns, _if this is about the banging at 2am that’s been happening for the past six days, i can assure you, that sound echoes from the house two over._

 

_kiddo… are you charles keener?_

 

he scrunches his nose at his full name, _that’s me, yeah._ harley squints and crosses his arms, the cold chill bothering him. _what’s wrong?_

 

_it’s your mom and sister… there was an accident. i need you to come to the hospital, i’ll drive you there._

 

and just like that, the tiredness is gone, and he’s never felt more awake. harley feels his heart thrumming loudly.

 

please, no —

 

* * *

 

harley storms the hospital, frantically asking the receptionist for where a louise keener and caroline keener are.

 

 _yes, i am a relative, they’re my mom and sister, please,_ he rushes out.

 

_mr. keener?_

 

harley turns wild-eyed to a doctor whose features are tight and grim. morbidly, he wonders how many lives this man has saved. instead, _where are they? where their rooms, are they okay? what happened?_

 

_they’re currently in the operating rooms, they lost a lot of blood._

 

the police officer next to him, points him towards an area with chairs, and harley staggers into one. it’s so hard to breathe, feels like someone’s sitting on his shoulders, kicking at his ribcage.

 

_your mom and sister were hit by a drunk driver… the drunk driver didn’t stop on the red light._

 

harley puts his head in his hands and sobs, tears starting to well up in his eyes, as the man continues.

 

_the driver eventually hit a light post. he died on impact._

 

the doctor joins in now, shuffling papers, _your sister came away with a lot of broken bones, it appears your mom took the majority of the hit._

 

harley can just picture it. pictures the way that his mom would hear the car swerve and try to push callie out of the way. he can picture it, like it’s on replay, like it’s primetime tv.

 

he swallows the bile that threatens to rise, _are… are they going to be okay?_

 

 _we’re doing the best we can_ , the doctor says firmly.

 

he shudders, nods once as he hears the doctor leave.

 

 _is there anyone we can call for you?_  the officer asks quietly, and tony flashes in his mind for a minute before he shakes his head.

 

_no, my… my grandparents died before me, and my dad left, so. s’just me._

 

the officer places a hand on his shoulder, _it’ll be okay._

 

he hopes so.

 

* * *

 

neither of them make it.

 

 _how… how is it possible that neither of them made it?_ harley asks quietly, hands shaking, his body trembling. _i-i thought you said you were doing the best you could, you’re a doctor, you’re supposed to_ **_save_ ** _people’s lives —_

 

the doctor says solemnly, seriously, as if he didn’t just tell harley that his family’s **dead** , _sir, your sister had unforeseeable trauma to her skull, inducing a bleeding in her brain… and your mother had a laceration in her lungs from the impact of the car, causing blood to enter the lungs._

 

harley backs away, arms wrapped around himself as he tries to breathe past the sobs, but it keeps getting stuttered and choked in his airway. he lets go of himself only to pull at his hair, trying to ground himself, trying to wake himself up from this nightmare, _no, no, no, please, no, my family can’t have been taken from me just because of what, of some asshole who decided to get behind the wheel drunk?_

 

there’s no justice, harley knows, _the driver died upon impact, but callie and mom are the ones who had to suffer?_

 

 _we’re truly sorry for your losses_ , the doctor says quietly, before walking away.

 

his hands are still shaking.

 

* * *

 

it doesn’t end.

 

he has no one to speak for him legally, his dad’s gone, so the court issued emancipation for him, but even then he’s sixteen. he doesn’t know where to go, and he feels like his head’s going to burst, and it’s all a bunch of legal jargon that are just a long way of saying that he’s screwed.

 

the money in the bank is just barely enough to pay for one funeral, but two?

 

the past several days have been in a whirlwind, and he doesn’t know what to do —

 

there are so many bills and fees —

 

for a few minutes, he thinks, mom would know what to do.

 

tears stream down, and he collapses to his knees, sobbing into his hands again, he’s lost track of how many times he’s cried these past few days as he looks around the living room.

 

and then suddenly, there’s a wave of anger, why did this have to happen to them? he stands up shakily, stares at the living room full of memories around him, and the anger keeps boiling and boiling before finally he grabs the bookshelf holding science competition awards and ice skating awards and wooden picture frames, bringing it all tumbling down. he watches with sick satisfaction as glass breaks and wood shatters.

 

he suddenly can’t stop.

 

by the time he comes to, he’s sitting on the couch with bleeding knuckles, everything in disarray around him.

 

(get out, get out, get out —)

 

he needs to get out of here.

 

* * *

 

he packs a loose bag of clothes and runs out of the house and doesn’t look back.

 

he gets to new york through a series of train tickets. new york is grating on his ears and smells even worse, but he has one destination.

 

he arrives, and it’s 2:29am, and it’s not jarvis that welcomes him, it’s an ai named friday who tells him that tony’s waiting for him in the living room.

 

his legs feel like lead as he walks — right, left, right, left, right — over to tony who smiles brightly at him at first, but the smile fades when tony really looks at him, and instead, tony paces over to him, and harley’s legs buckle underneath him. tony catches him in time before he hits the ground, and harley sobs in his arms, trembling.

 

 _what happened_ , he hears distantly, the worry in tony’s tone prominent as harley covers his face, scrubbing at his eyes.

 

_they’re gone, mom and callie — they’re —_

 

tony freezes, but harley just keeps trying to speak, choking on his words,

 

 _got hit by a car, they’re gone, they’re_ **_gone_ ** _—_

 

harley feels tony softly quiet him, tony murmuring that it’s gonna be okay is the last thing he hears before harley knocks out.

 

* * *

 

**part ii. burning red in my brain.**

 

* * *

 

it’s been a month since his mom and sister’s death.

 

tony had paid for the burial, stopped by rose hill to get the rest of harley’s things. harley had refused vehemently to come back, didn’t want to step foot back in town, and tony hadn’t forced him. instead, tony had set him up with a local apartment, which is more than harley feels like he deserves, but tony refused anything less.

 

it’s been three weeks since he’s moved into the apartment, and he hasn’t left it, stays inside and stares out the window, watches day become night and night become day in a city that isn’t his.

 

there’s a knock on the door one day, and he opens it. tony and a guy his age are at the door. harley hasn’t washed his hair in four days, wearing the same pajamas for three days in a row, but he can’t be bothered to care about his appearance.

 

the guy has soft eyes and a sweet smile, and maybe the old harley would have fumbled through a greeting, tried to make a good impression, but this harley just looks between him and tony and silently lets them in.

 

they both walk in, and quietly, harley asks, voice raspy from disuse for the past 2 weeks, raspy from the last time he spoke when tony came over, _do you want anything to drink or?_

 

tony just shakes his head, sitting on the couch. the teen with him seems shy, tentatively sitting down on the couch a bit near him.

 

harley just sits on the sofa chair across them, and tony breathes in for a minute before gesturing, _harley, meet peter_.

 

 _your intern_ , harley recalls, slowly, from a few conversations in the past, from before —

 

 _yeah_ , tony nods, _and peter, meet harley._

 

peter grins, bouncing in the chair a little bit as harley meets his eyes, _tony told me a lot about you!_

 

peter’s mood feels infectious, and harley’s not immune, a tiny quirk of his lips meets his features before he shrugs, _good things, i hope_.

 

_all good things!_

 

peter feels like the sun, energetic and bright and lovely, and harley feels like a shadow in the face of his light. has to look away, unable to handle this soft boy with a pretty smile.

 

 _i hope we can become friends_ , peter smiles, hopefully, and harley pauses, before nodding, finding that he means it,

 

 _me too_.

 

* * *

 

peter comes by often, after that.

 

comes almost every week, swings by with his bright smile and soft eyes, and harley wonders if peter was told what happened because peter never asks, just talks to him about other things, science, video games, movies —

 

it’s a lot, but a lot in a good sort of way, and harley never refuses hang outs, but harley never leaves the apartment either, and harley is grateful that peter never pushes him to.

 

it’s been another two months, nearly three months since the accident, just like that, peter fitting into his life with ease, tony stopping by every now and then with pepper or rhodey or happy, everyone doing whatever they can to be supportive with what harley’s going through, and harley still doesn’t feel like he deserves any of their support to begin with.

 

and maybe harley’s still dealing badly, goes days without eating, days without sleeping, spends the days peter’s not with him and the days that tony doesn’t visit on him watching old family videos that tony salvaged from home.

 

(replays videos of the first time callie went on the ice, videos of harley trying to make a science project and callie ‘helping’ him, videos of callie trying to put makeup on mom, videos of mom singing to a baby him —)

 

it’s one of the days when he’s watching a video of his mom dancing with a younger callie in their living room when he hears someone tap his glass window.

 

he startles, looking over at the window to see… spiderman?

 

he blinks but against his better judgement, he opens the window only for spiderman to plunk his way onto the floorboards, and that’s when harley sees the gash on his chest.

 

harley quickly grabs the first aid kit from the bathroom and a bowl of water, and he rushes over as fast as he can back to spiderman who is quietly groaning on his floor.

 

 _is this the only cut?_ harley asks, dabbing at the wound, soaking up the blood to see a clean swipe.

 

spiderman nods and stays quiet while harley works. when harley finishes, he feels a gloved hand on his forearm, and he turns in surprise to see spiderman lifting up his mask.

 

 _wait_ , harley interjects, voice cracking a bit, _don’t … don’t show me just because of, of this, you don’t owe me._

 

spiderman just shakes his head before pulling the mask off, and harley flinches back when he sees peter, who looks worried and sheepish.

 

 _i trust you_ , is what peter says, earnestly, eyes still so kind.

 

harley doesn’t really know what to say in the face of it, but peter just awkwardly looks around before, _is it alright if i… stay here for the night? it’s a bit far to swing back, and uh…_

 

and while harley kind of wants to go back in bed, under layers of blankets, he nods, anyways. _did you want something to eat or?_  he asks, in the effort of being a good host, and peter looks like he’s about to say no, but his stomach growls a bit audibly, and harley laughs, a little hollow but still a laugh nonetheless, _guess that’s a yes._

 

 _are you gonna eat too?_ peter tilts his head, curiously, following him into the kitchen.

 

harley pauses before shrugging, _nah, i had an early dinner._ he feels guilty for lying to peter, but he’s not hungry, doesn’t feel the ache building in his abdomen, so accustomed to not eating that it comes natural to him.

 

(it shouldn’t. he knows. but this is his life now.)

 

* * *

 

**interlude: was it the real you that i knew?**

 

* * *

 

peter’s falling, and he’s falling, and he’s falling, and he’s falling fast.

 

he knows it, feels it, feels head over heels, feels like there are butterflies every time he hangs out with harley, but harley’s just so… harley.

 

he’s a bit quiet, quieter than peter would have thought based off the stories tony told him, but he doesn’t mind. he makes jokes sometimes, jokes that peter doubts were even intended half the time, and he makes peter laugh in an effortless way that isn’t faked, isn’t forced.

 

so he’s falling for him.

 

and while maybe he doesn’t have a note of reference to how harley is, sometimes he notices things.

 

sometimes harley gets cuts on his arms, but they’re weirdly placed on his forearms, but he always says they’re nothing, says that he got them from lab accidents or that he tripped or that he got them in his sleep. or the fact that harley never seems to really eat when he’s around. sometimes, he’ll stop by harley’s apartment for lunch, and harley says he had a heavy breakfast and only eats a few bites. or the times that harley says he’s really tired, has dark circles like bruises underneath his eyes constantly. always claims it’s because he sleeps late on lab stuff, says he’s just building things.

 

things start happening, and they’re all coincidental, maybe.

 

(deep down, peter starts connecting the dots.)

 

but regardless, nearly nine months of knowing harley pass like that, and peter feels all of his feelings swell up in their intensity, and finally, stops by harley’s apartment after school, after ned and mj continuously reassured him it’ll go well, after all of that. finally, he decides to go and ask him out.

 

he knocks on harley’s door. no answer.

 

peter fidgets a little. harley always answers. he has to again.

 

five minutes pass. he knocks again.

 

 _harley? are you there?_ he asks, his spider sense going off. he ignores it, hoping it’s about something else.

 

 _please open the door…_ he says, panic rising.

 

no answer.

 

he waits a minute. then two. then three.

 

he can’t take it, he busts down the door and sees harley there. he’s not awake.

 

something is very wrong. he steps closer, seeing an empty pill bottle on the table.

 

peter runs to harley fast and checks his pulse.

 

he starts freaking out, he calls 911 with shaking hands. barely recognises what he's even saying on the phone, just sobbing and pleading for them to come. rattles off harley's address off the top of his head.

 

he checks his pulse again.

 

there’s something. it’s faint.

 

he has a pulse. peter starts crying harder. the ambulance is on its way.

 

he tries to wake harley up.

 

 _harley— harley, it’s me peter— it’s okay— you’re— everything’s gonna be okay—_ he sputters quietly.

 

he won’t wake up.

 

he shakes him a little.

 

harley's eyes are still shut, and his skin feels too warm, and it's wrong, all wrong, everything is wrong —

 

peter clutches harley close, cradles his head, and begs him not to leave him, _you can't leave, please don't, there's still so much i need to say to you_ , and he keeps crying, and harley still isn’t moving.

 

harley starts seizing because the drugs are so far deep into his bloodstream, and peter can’t stop panicking and crying because harley's lips are turning blue, and peter doesn't know what to do, just holds him closer and sobs.

 

he's hyperventilating, now, screaming for harley to wake up, screaming for someone to help, and praying to god that he doesn't take harley too soon, _please it's too soon, not him, please don't take him_ —

 

the medics arrive, and they're ripping harley out of his arms and he's crying and begging them to let him in the ambulance, and only after peter is on the brink of storming inside the ambulance himself, the medics finally let him in. he sits aside, wants to hold harley’s hand, as the medics put him on monitors, begin taking records.

 

the drive feels like it's going on forever, and by the time they’ve arrived, harley's lost his pulse twice.

 

when they finally get to the hospital, the doctors ask him who to call for harley, and peter just keeps crying because he can't think, can't do anything, but he grips his phone and calls tony, tony would know what to do, can’t say anything but just cries in the receiver, hopes he’ll understand.

 

tony rushes over to the hospital in the iron man suit, stepping out to try and calm peter down, but peter can’t stop shaking, can’t stop crying, because _no, this isn’t, not about me, harley, tony please he can't die, please_ , and tony freezes, stares at him, and peter can see the pain in his eyes, before tony rests a hand on his shoulder, quietly reassuring, _it’s going to be okay. harley’s stronger than this, he’ll get through this, we’ll figure it out, we’re gonna help him. everything will be okay_.

 

at one point, tony talks to the doctors, and peter can’t focus enough to really process any of what they’re saying, but he hears  _overdose_ and _suici —_

 

peter cries, makes himself small in the hospital chair, body finally wracked with sobs as he prays that harley will be okay when all he can think about is the fact that harley is fighting for his life on an operating table just ways away.

 

(later, tony will tell peter that the doctors had to flush his bloodstream out and that harley made it, just in time, and peter will try not to cry and think of what would have happened if he was too late.)

 

* * *

 

**part iii. running by all these arid days.**

 

* * *

 

when harley opens his eyes, he sees a hospital room ceiling.

 

he blinks again, and he sees a painting of a sinking sea ship in a desert.

 

then, he hears the beep and stirring of monitors and machines around him. his mouth is dry, but he lets out a tiny, strangled noise from the back of his throat. that noise turns into a louder cry, turns into a louder scream.

 

doctors rush in as they try to get him to calm him down, hears people tell him to relax, but he can’t stop screaming, loud in the echo of the hospital room as he thrashes against people’s grips, just wants people to let go of him, stop touching him, please he can’t breathe —

 

someone must have given him a sedative because he’s woozy, all of a sudden, the room is spinning and harley flops back down on the pillows, tears streaming from his eyes even as his body slowly numbs out.

 

the next time he wakes up, he’s strapped into the bed, and a doctor is there, but so is tony and peter, and harley wants to go back to sleep, wants the darkness back, doesn’t want to be awake, doesn’t want to answer to anyone.

 

the doctor tells him that they recommend he stay for inpatient care, but harley shakes his head, _no. i’m fine._

 

tony looks upset, looks disappointed, and it’s a look he’s never seen tony use on him before, _you’re not fine. peter saved your life, if he hadn’t been there —_

 

harley just forces a laugh, something sharp and bitter and wrong, and he sees peter flinch as if harley slapped him. harley feels so numbed, the morphine that the doctors put him on leaving him unfiltered. maybe he would feel bad if he felt something, as he shrugs, _of course. of course peter didn’t saved my life. of course peter just had to play hero._

 

tony stares in shock at him, but all harley can feel is tv static. and maybe the static feels a little like anger, feels a little like pain; but when harley lays back in bed, all he can think about is the fact that the one time he gets a choice, it’s taken from him just like everything else in his life.

 

after a few beats of silence, he hears tony sigh. disappointment once more, as he rests a hand on his shoulder, _we’re gonna help you, okay? we’re gonna fix this._

 

harley just stares at the ceiling while he hears him and peter leave, a quiet goodbye is all he hears before he shuts his eyes again.

 

* * *

 

recuperation sucks.

 

tony sends him to therapists and psychiatrists as soon as he leaves the hospital, and they ask him the stereotypical questions, _we understand you’re going through pain… how do you feel about that?,_ and harley wants nothing more than to stick his head in a blender, if he’s being frank.

 

they tell him that people care about him, that tony is worried for him, and that peter is worried for him, and harley snaps one afternoon.

 

 _it’s not enough_ , he shouts, wants to throw something, _it’s not enough to be guilted into staying alive._

 

and once the dam breaks, it breaks, harley won’t stop shouting — _why is it fair that mom and callie died, and i didn’t? why is it fair that i didn’t get to die when i should have?_

 

and there’s so much anger and so much to say and he’s so upset, and he can’t stop because _it should have been me who died, not anyone else — me._ this was his decision, and fuck — it’s not enough. maybe they all care, but why should any of this matter when **he** doesn’t care? maybe he’s being selfish, but it’s the only time he’s ever chosen to **be** selfish. he’s been a good person all his fucking life, and this happens to him, and he just wants to end it all and he still can’t. _doesn’t anyone get it? doesn’t anyone understand?_

 

he’s forced to stay on an earth he doesn’t want to be on in the first place, and suddenly — suddenly, it should be okay, just because people ‘care’ about him?

 

he has nothing left. no will left. he’s just a shell of a person.

 

the only thing left from him are memories. he’s made of memories, memories that are tainted by the tragedies that took everything away from him.

 

he didn’t have a choice when his dad left. he didn’t have a choice when he was bullied every day in middle school. he didn’t have a choice when his mom and sister got into an accident, and he was the only one to survive. he didn’t have a choice when he tried to commit his own suicide. so why is he here? what is the point? he’s just a fucking puppet that people get to make decisions for and that’s okay because it’s what’s **‘best’** for him?

 

it's not enough. people caring about him will never be enough. there are too many questions and too little answers, and he just wants this all to end. this wasn't a decision that he made out of the blue, this was years coming.

 

there's no reason left to live. he's thought about suicide every day for the past twelve months. and so he lashes out. lashes out at people and everyone who's helped him. he just wants everyone to stop, everything to stop. he doesn't want pretty words that things are gonna be okay.

 

he wants this to be over.

 

* * *

 

one day, peter visits him at his apartment, again. harley hasn’t left his bed, and peter is begging harley to get out of bed, but harley just stares blank-eyed at him.

 

 _c’mon, the trees in central park are blooming today… it’ll be fun, there’ll be a festival there, harley, it’ll be nice, i promise,_ peter smiles, gently trying to coax him out, and harley just turns away, numb and empty, looks out the window at the buildings, there. and for a few twisted minutes, he wonders how far he can push peter until peter just leaves him alone. wonders why peter is even still here.

 

he must have said that outloud, he guesses, because peter flinches back, and harley can see the tears in his eyes, and feels a familiar choking feeling, something heavy and pained, at the sight of it. peter just sits next to him, quietly says, _don’t say things like that_ , and harley finds the nerve and prods at it. _it's true. i'm gonna die in the end. we all know it. stop trying to save me. i’m not worth it. don’t you have cats in trees to be saving?_

 

 _why don’t you just leave and never come back, huh? can’t you tell i don’t want this? want any of this?_ harley mutters bitterly, forcing him to leave because it’s gonna happen eventually, eventually peter is gonna get tired of him, might as well speed up the process.

 

peter just grabs his hand and cries finally, the tears falling, _i won’t leave you, harley please, i —_

 

harley shoves him away, _oh yeah. you never did listen to what i wanted._

 

peter wipes his tears and tells harley that he's not the only one who's lost people. harley just seethes because _it’s not the same. just get. out._

 

* * *

 

**part iv. rather hold the past than to let go.**

 

* * *

 

and the days pass on a lot like that.

 

seasons change.

 

harley keeps robotically going to therapy, the psychiatrists keep giving him more pills (not like harley complains on that one, medicated into being pliant into being a normal human shell). he stops eating unless he can’t take the ache anymore and eats something small, a bag of crackers, an apple. doesn’t look both ways when crossing the street, hopes one day he can walk into moving traffic.

 

tony visits too biweekly as always, but he hates it, tells tony to leave the way he came. doesn’t want to see the sad, disappointed look in his eyes. doesn’t want to see tony’s pity.

 

rhodey visits one day. tells him that he remembers a kid who was just like him after the death of his parents. tries to tell him to keep going. tells him that he looks like he’s going the same dark path. harley doesn’t say anything to that.

 

life goes on, and he's been in and out of the hospital from attempts, from trying to hang himself, from trying to slit his wrists. he’s had to stay inpatient a couple of times but fakes his way out, tells the people exactly what they want to hear. he keeps pushing everyone, just wants to be alone, tells them so when they try to visit him on his birthday. they tell him that a storm happens before a rainbow, but he tunes them out. he’s done.

 

it’s been two years since the accident. eighteen, now, and not an inch of the kid he used to be. he stopped building. stopped inventing. stopped coping.

 

he cuts too deep one day. nicks the major artery in his left arm. tony was supposed to visit that day, with peter, and surprise, surprise — they find him there, still bleeding out and too awake but too weak to make the finishing blow. they watch in horror until snapping into action as they try to stop the bleeding while videos of him and his sister and his mom play on his phone in the echo of the bathroom, blood staining the screen.

 

* * *

 

the ambulance is back again, and he dimly wonders if they all have come to know who he is at the hospital at this point, wonders how close he's come to death. they have to sew up the slit artery in his arm, along with the other deep lacerations, and he has to wear full sleeves worth of bandages when he wakes up again with tony by his side.

 

 _you need to stop this_ , tony says, firmly, and harley just blinks lazily, too drugged up to say anything.

 

 _this isn’t gonna bring either of them back, y’know. you hurting yourself like this? you think they want this, you think this will help?_ tony stares, eyes hard and lined red from frustrated tears. harley looks away, wants to ignore this, but his chest hurts, and his head hurts, and he doesn’t argue.

 

tony sighs, leaning back in the chair next to him. _that’s it._

 

harley tenses.

 

(he’s leaving, he finally did it, he finally managed to make tony angry, this is it —)

 

(he finally managed to push aside the man he saw as a father and now —)

 

_i want you to come and live with me at the compound._

 

harley blinks.

 

 _you’re gonna stay in the compound. and every single day,_ tony tells him, _you’re gonna come with me to the workshop. every day._

 

harley just stares back as if he can’t believe this (he can’t because he can’t believe tony is still pushing for him to get back up) before shrugging. _fine_. whatever. what does he have to lose?

 

* * *

 

**pt iv. i reach out a hand through the haze.**

 

* * *

 

so they get rid of his apartment, and tony helps him move his things into his area of the compound. some of the others are there to greet him, and he nods in acknowledgement while tony quietly explains what’s wrong as if the long bandages covering the skin exposed by his short sleeve shirt don’t tell the story themselves. he’s going inside his room by the time he realises peter didn’t show.

 

(that’s fair. that’s what he deserves.)

 

(peter deserves better, for fuck’s sake.)

 

he wakes up the next morning, passed out from exhaustion and melatonin pills, and before he can go to the workshop, tony brings him into the kitchen, silently drops a banana in his hands and doesn’t stop staring until harley hesitantly peels it and eats it under his watchful stare, only nods in approval once harley’s finished, and then that’s when he’s led downstairs.

 

(he tries to ignore the churn of his stomach, having grown used to not eating regularly.)

 

friday opens the doors to the workshop, and the old harley would have been enthralled, trying to touch everything. instead, he stands there until tony directs him to a workbench.

 

 _build_ , tony gestures to him.

 

_build what?_

 

tony shrugs, _anything. just build. make something. i want you to make something new every single week._

 

harley just rolls his eyes. _what's the point?_

 

 _figure it out._ tony says, already starting to get to work himself.

 

a tiny huff, but harley sighs, crosses his arms around himself, _fine_. 

 

he sighs, arms dropping by his side before he picks up a wrench and some metal and screws and screwdrivers and gears and bolts and wires. and he gets to work.

 

the first thing he builds is a tiny robot that has a monitor face and looks kind of like bmo from adventure time, but like — she doesn't do anything explicitly useful aside from look at harley and giggle, nudges him with her tiny rounded arm for attention, cries once when harley doesn’t carry her when she pats him, nuzzles his shoulder when harley face plants a table, but she's his first thing he's built in years.

 

* * *

 

building comes back to him. naturally. like riding bike. and so he continues for a month.

 

makes four things for four weeks like tony told him to.

 

(the first is the tiny robot that he names emotes (electronic mainframe of the emotional spectrum), and pepper calls emotes cute when she stops by, which makes the sweet little robot blush, which harley thinks is a valid reaction for that.

 

the second becomes an alarm clock that plays remixes of old captain america psas, and he makes tony laugh loudly in the workshop until he nearly falls off his chair, and sometimes tony sets an alarm just to hear what the mixer comes up with.

 

the third is a mobile toaster that zooms around, and the little thing loves playing catch with rhodey who likes throwing bread at her, and seeing if he’ll land the shot, but he always does which makes her giggle by twinkling the red light on her side.

 

the fourth is for happy because he knows he likes trying to make elaborate foods but needs extra help in following the recipe, so he makes a better equivalent of those google home tablet things he always got youtube ads for.)

 

he takes breaks when tony does, tony makes him sit down next to him at the dinner table and puts food on his plate and tells him to eat.

 

it was hard at first, he only could stomach few things at once, and one time, he spends an hour on his knees in front of a toilet, having had his stomach reject a burger.

 

but, he eats. and after week three, he can finally move from a kiddie-sized plate to a moderately bigger one.

 

peter visits for dinner some days.

 

things aren't good between them, and harley deserves it. deserves the polite silence. deserves the tiny but short _hello_ s that he gets now. deserves the distance.

 

he knows he deserves it.

 

so one afternoon, he sketches a tiny robot. a tiny little spider. gives it a tiny rotor blade to fly. modifies an old web shooter he saw lying around and magnetizes it, so it can handle an electric current. finds some old fluid and makes a compartment for the little guy to spit webs.

 

tony sees him one day, watches him curiously but doesn't ask what he's doing. lets him build.

 

he has to ask tony one day where the saw is to cut some metal for the rotor, and tony freezes, and harley has to frown (although he knows tony’s concerns are valid) and tell him, _okay. watch me use it_.

 

and so tony watches harley use the saw to cut the metal.

 

and then, harley has to ask him for a blowtorch and tony helps hold one of the legs for harley to weld it in the mainframe since dum-e keeps moving around and won't stay still long enough to help him. u comes over once and starts zooming near them, but tony makes a tiny _tsk_ , and then u drags dum-e away by his claw.

 

they work like that in silence for a while before tony asks harley how his day is going. harley nearly deadpans a snarky remark, something distasteful, but tony asks him, setting down the mask he’s wearing to look him in the eye.

 

 _how are you,_ he repeats but continues on, _1-10, 1 being best and 10 being send me to the emergency now._

 

and harley blinks, shrugs. has to think for a moment before settling on, _7._

 

tony nods, _we can work with that._

 

and so harley builds the tiny spider.

 

it takes two weeks because harley has to take breaks when his arms still hurt from the bandages and when he's wracked with guilt over the things he's said. tony doesn't hold it against him.

 

 _peter isn’t gonna come around for another week_ , tony says, even when harley doesn’t ask. harley looks away, too focused on how he's gonna get this to peter to be embarrassed. so he asks to leave the compound. it's the first time he has been outside (if not at a hospital) in several seasons. rhodey offers to drive him, and they stay silent until rhodey ruffles his hair and tells him they’ve arrived.

 

harley knocks on the door, after standing outside the door for thirty minutes, trying to gather some nerve.

 

peter opens it almost instantly, looks like he’s been standing too, on the other side for a while, must have heard him pacing. he doesn’t say anything though, simply blinks and tilts his head at him.

 

they stay in silence for a while, and harley hands him the bot, looking away. peter takes it, turning it over to press the little spider emblem on its belly, and the bot blinks blue to life. the spider-bot flexes its thin little legs and peter laughs, quietly, when the bot blinks at him and chirps. peter looks back up and leads harley inside, rhodey telling them to call if they need him before leaving.

 

harley sits down on peter's couch, while peter puts the bot down to roam around the living room, and harley feels hit with a tiny wave of deja vu. _is everything... okay?_ peter asks, uncertainly. and harley just. he speaks.

 

 _i'm sorry. i was... worse than an asshole. you didn't deserve it._ harley says, first. _it's not enough. i know. sorry doesn’t change what i’ve done or said._ peter lays a hand on his, interlacing their fingers, stays silent for him to continue.

 

_it's not okay. and i'm not okay, and i can't promise i will be today, tomorrow or nine days from now. i'm not okay, and i still feel like shit when i open my eyes in the morning, and i still believe things would have been better if i had ended it the first time. but i’ve put you through hell, and you didn’t deserve that. you didn’t deserve any of what i put you through. i hurt you, and i’m so sorry._

 

and peter nods, _okay. it's not okay, you're right. it's not. and i forgive you_.

 

harley sighs, a full body shudder as he puts his head in his hands, _no._

 

peter laughs a bit — _no? what do you mean?_

 

 _you shouldn’t. i don’t deserve your forgiveness_ , harley says, looking over at him, eyes glazed over.

 

peter just smiles sadly (and harley hates that the smile makes his chest hurt) but tucks a tiny curl behind harley's ear and tells him, _it doesn’t matter what you do or don’t deserve. i’m not leaving._

 

and harley, for the first time, believes him.

 

* * *

 

harley stays at peter's place for the night, makes sure to text tony who replies with an ‘ok cool stay safe u two’.

 

initially, harley intends on taking the couch, but peter just tugs him to his room and pulls harley into his arms, and they sleep.

 

and when harley wakes up, peter's made breakfast for him. he walks out into the kitchen for peter to hand him a tiny plate of eggs and two slices of bacon. he softly thanks him while peter just smiles kind and sweet and gentle, and harley still feels breathless at the sight of him.

 

he digs into the food while peter rests his chin on his hand and asks him, _what are you gonna build today?_

 

harley pauses for a minute, thinks truly, but he already knows in his heart what he’s gonna build, so he shrugs. _something with retro-reflective panels_.

 

peter laughs quietly, _okay_. and so peter drives him back to the compound, peter walking in for some training but drops him off by the workshop. before peter can walk away fully, however, harley tugs his hand back, and peter blinks in surprise, turning around in confusion.

 

 _i'm a 4 today_ , harley tells him.

 

peter smiles so wide that harley feels like he's being knocked over.

 

* * *

 

the road to recovery sucks, if harley's being honest.

 

he nearly throws a chair at the wall when he can't get the reflective panels to reflect.

 

one day, he stares at a blade sharpener too long, and dum-e has to zoom in front of it ten times to catch his attention.

 

one day, he has the blowtorch on, and emotes has to poke him on the hand to turn it off.

 

one day, he panics because he nearly cuts his finger, and falls off his chair and trembles on the cold ground because he didn’t mean to, he doesn’t want to have to come back to this, please, no, he was doing so well, please, don’t —

 

and friday has to tell him, _it’s summertime, 70 degrees, you’re okay, you’re in the compound. it will be alright, harley._

 

and some days, he tells peter or tony, that it's a 7. another day, it’s an 8.

 

(that day was horrible, he remembers not being able to stomach food, didn’t have the appetite, so he just didn’t eat, but only tried to eat at dinner, ate too much and found himself nauseous.)

 

but tony always says, _i can work with that_ , and peter always tells him things like _okay, let's take a break, can you teach me to make those peanut butter brownies you used to bake?_ and harley slowly starts waking up without friday's alarm.

 

It takes him two and a half weeks to make a stealth bot that he feels confident enough to give to tony.

 

so after dinner one night, harley hands tony a tiny little bot that has retro reflective panels, a camera that hooks up to friday, and tells him, _i’m sorry. i know i’ve been difficult, i know i haven’t been easy to take care of these past years. i’m sorry. it’s still so hard for me._

 

and tony hugs his son and tells him, _i know. i forgive you._

 

* * *

 

and so harley keeps building.

 

some days are neutral, and those are 5s and 6s but then, other days, rare ones, he can get the numbers to 4s.

 

he starts being able to get an appetite back, starts leaving the workshop to sleep on time, and sometimes he even leaves the compound with peter.

 

and harley still doesn’t really like new york, the air still clogs his lungs, and the skyscrapers make his head hurt when looking at them, and that’s okay.

 

he still hates crossing the street, though, still flinches horribly at the sound of cars honking.

 

one day, he has a 9 after going outside because a car didn't stop when it should have, and harley saw a small girl almost get hit and had shoved her out of the way just in time.

 

he has a panic attack right there on the streets of midtown, curling his body into himself. has trouble breathing, can’t stop shaking, why can’t he control his limbs, feels himself clawing at his arms, thinks that it’s lucky his arms have healed enough or else they’d reopen.

 

on that day, tony is out of country, so peter frantically calls rhodey to pick them up, harley can hear him stuttering panicked into the phone.

 

rhodey shows up and wraps a thick, heavy blanket around harley's shoulders, and his hands won't stop shaking, and it feels like he's dying more than the times he actually was.

 

he goes back to the compound, and rhodey takes him to the workshop instead of the wide couch in the living room, and sets him on a chair there, emotes whirring over and making sad noises.

 

 _i'm —_ harley starts, but rhodey just shakes his head.

 

 _there's nothing to forgive_.

 

harley starts crying, and peter holds him close after asking if he's okay with being touched, and harley anchors himself back after it feels like it’s been hours of choked sobs and wheezy coughs.

 

 _it's a 9_. he manages out. _it’s a 9, please make it stop, why can’t this stop, it hurts, everything hurts —_

 

peter runs a hand through harley's hair and kisses his curls and tells him to build.

 

so harley grabs a piece of metal and a wrench and creates. he builds and builds until his hands stop shaking, until his mind can stop screaming and his nerves can stop jittering. he builds until he feels his lungs start working again. he builds until he passes out with his head on peter’s lap.

 

when tony comes back the next day frantic and worried, he sees harley playing with a tiny humming robotic bunny that hops around emotes.

 

* * *

 

and it goes like that. one week, he makes pepper and tony a lamp that sings in italian lullabies. one week, he makes happy an electric kettle that whistles the downton abbey theme. his year continues like that.

 

he makes peter more gadgets, too. sometimes, karen will even record them being used so harley can see them in action. sometimes, peter gets a little carried away, and the gadgets don’t always make it out, but the spider-bot he made him the first time always gets brought home, still chirping and stirring.

 

and it’s... nice.

 

he still gets 7s and 8s and, on his really bad days, he gets 9s. but he keeps building.

 

tony joins him whenever he can. and they make projects together. peter joins too, sometimes, and one time peter and harley try to make a bb-8 for tony on father’s day. they’re mildly successful, and they tease tony when they see telltale signs of tears.

 

and on the anniversary of his sister and mom's death, it’s quiet. he goes to the workshop. and he builds a tiny picture and video display. transfers all of his videos and pictures he has of his family into it. sets it beside his bed. and breathes.

 

he looks forward to the next day. he realises.

 

* * *

 

peter asks about his sister and mom one day. and harley smiles and tells him.

 

tells him that one time he tried to motorise his sister's scooter, and they nearly crashed it into the shed at home. tells him about the time his mom nearly slapped a parent for getting mad at harley having a fight at school because he punched a guy for snapping a girl's bra strap. tells him about the time he came out to his family. tells him about how his sister was an awful basketball player but she was the best at ice skating in the entirety of rose hill. tells him about how he and his sister took up odd jobs one christmas to pay for a necklace his mom had wanted.

 

some time, others visit and listen to the stories. tony sits down around the time harley talks about how his mom loved karaoke and his sister loved butchering karaoke.

 

and slowly, the weight in his chest lifts, the guilt in his rib cage recedes.

 

and at 4am, tony quietly hugs harley and tells him, _it wasn't your fault that you lived._ and finally, harley nods.

 

* * *

 

peter and harley hang out more.

 

peter tries to make dinner once, but it doesn't really work out, tried to make alfredo pasta but turned it into a burned goop on the pot, so harley rolls up his sleeves, and starts cooking an old dish the diner his mom worked at made.

 

he doesn't feel too comfortable with the knife, he admits, and peter cuts the veggies for him while harley explains how. doesn’t end up tasting just like his mom’s, but it tastes good all the same. he even manages to finish a whole plate.

 

another time they go to a carnival in town.

 

they go on the bumper cars, and harley goes behind the wheel, and it's the first time he's touched one since the accident. peter drags him on the ferris wheel even if harley complains it's too high, but peter holds his hand so he shuts up.

 

and things get better.

 

peter bumps his hip as they work side by side in the workshop. they have a movie marathon of the movies that showed in the years that harley didn't leave the house. peter leaves him little sticky note reminders on his work bench, and harley makes more gadgets for him. tony tells him they're sickeningly cute, but harley sticks his tongue out and tells him, _i’m feeling like a 3, so there._

 

harley kisses peter for the first time before peter's about to go on his patrol, and peter blushes so red that he matches his suit, and harley has to kiss him again for the hell of it, and peter laughs sweetly, melodically in his ears.

 

peter’s so warm when he holds him close, sweet and alive and loving, and harley still kind of feels blinded by peter’s light, still kind of feels like he doesn’t deserve peter, but when he tells peter all of that, he just kisses him and tells him that he has him anyways, regardless of what the demons in harley’s head try to say.

 

when he has bad days, they still exist, but peter's always by his side to run a hand through his hair and kiss his forehead and tell him he’s doing fine. he’s healing.

 

and yeah, sometimes harley still says the wrong thing to everyone or makes a bad joke about his suicide attempts that make peter cry, but he apologises and does whatever he can to make up for it.

 

that's important.

 

peter still never leaves, and harley tells him he loves him one day when peter's watching the rest of their cupcakes bake and kisses him, and peter tastes like the cupcakes he’s already eaten because he couldn't wait to frost them. peter protests loudly, pout on his lips, because _i was gonna say it first_ but peter just kisses him ten times to make it even.

 

* * *

 

one day, harley asks tony if they can visit rose hill.

 

(it’s the first time in nearly four years since he’s been here.)

 

tony nods, and they, along with peter, go to rose hill cemetery. they pass by the gravestones until he sees where his family have been buried.

 

_mom, callie... it's been a while._

 

and he catches them up. tells them, _sorry for not coming back sooner_. tells them of how he hasn’t been doing so great, but he’s better now. tells them of how he had people help him heal. tells them that he hopes they’re okay wherever they are.

 

he reintroduces tony to them. teases callie with teary eyes, says tony showed him this one ice rink in new york that they put on during winter time that she would have loved. tony tells him that years ago, his mom made him promise to take care of him, to protect him. harley nods, _she would have been grateful to have seen what you’ve done for me._

 

and then, he holds peter's hand as he smiles, _this is peter. my boyfriend. you guys would have loved him_. laughs a little choked up, knows callie would have teased them mercilessly, and his mom would have shown peter all of his baby pictures, and they would have loved to have met sunshine in a person. tells peter that. and peter hugs him close and kisses the tears from his eyes, and tony rests a hand on harley's shoulder comfortingly.

 

time passes as harley looks at the sunsetting, the golden hour, over rose hill. one of the prettiest times of the day. remembers all of the times that he watched this sunset when he was a kid.

 

and slowly, he feels the ache and the tension and the agony and the pain falter. the creaking in his bones release, and the grip on his ribcage cease, and he feels alive.

 

he rests flowers on their graves, presses a kissed palm to both stones. _i miss you guys. i'll be back next summer to visit again._ he promises.

 

when they get home, harley smiles, crying still. the cuts on his arms have healed completely, just a pale memory.

 

and harley's still made of memories. but now he can let go.

 

and when he finally stops crying, he takes a deep breath, everyone looking to him.

 

_i'm a 1._

 

and he's ready to see the sun rise again.


End file.
